


Draco of Durmstrang

by cosmic_llin, Deccaboo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Early Work, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Teaching, Unfinished and Discontinued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-23
Updated: 2005-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:05:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/pseuds/cosmic_llin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deccaboo/pseuds/Deccaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy didn't expect to be sent to Durmstrang Institute for his magical education, but what was even more unexpected was the treatment he received once he got there. So, when Draco discovers that he will be travelling to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, he is both excited and nervous. But what he doesn't realise is that he will meet someone there - a Muggle-born girl who will change his life forever</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is discontinued and WILL NOT be completed.
> 
> Characters do not belong to us, we are making no profit.

_A chill wind blew down the draughty corridor, causing dried pine needles to skitter over the stone-paved floor. Draco Malfoy pulled his wolverine fur-lined hood tighter around his face, aware of the prickling of frozen spikes of fur against his temples, but choosing to ignore it. At this time of year, the weather was drawing in for winter and the students of Durmstrang started to wear their fur-lined cloaks inside the great keep._

It was early, six in the morning, but Viktor always liked a fire to be burning hot and established in his suite before he returned from early Quidditch practice. Draco leaned against the heavy wooden door and pushed against the stone floor with his feet to open it. The doors inside the Durmstrang Institute were very thick to keep out the intense cold and keep in any vestiges of heat.  _Ordinarius_  Karkaroff, the head teacher, preferred fires to only be used for magical purposes, but Viktor was a favourite and Karkaroff tended to overlook some of the star Quidditch player's trespasses regarding school rules.

Draco was familiar with the cold stone walls of Viktor's living quarters. The main room was the older boy's personal living room, and two rooms either side were his private bedroom and privy. Magical lanterns shone from burnished metal brackets and ancient tapestries of wolf hunts decorated the walls, but Draco had seen them before. He took off his fur mittens and fought an impulse to tuck his hands inside the long sleeves of his cloak. The cold bit hard and his pale, thin hands turned pink.

Building Viktor's fire was one of Draco's favourite tasks. He forgot the cold as he swept the fireplace of ash and laid fresh logs into the clean fireplace, thinking earnestly of the blaze that would warm his flesh and push away the biting cold. When the fire was laid and ready, Draco cracked his knuckles to wake his hands up and reached for his wand.

'Feuer und flamme sein!' He flicked his wand at the fireplace and a bright flame burst from each of the logs, quickly catching and filling the fireplace with a cheerful, warm, bright light.

Draco leant back on his heels and held his hands out in front of the fire, feeling the sensation return to his fingers. He pushed back his hood and began to tidy up the living space. Viktor was not as messy as others in his year, but he was not particularly tidy, either. Draco had quickly learnt the few cleaning spells that would make his job easier.

'Aufräumen,' Draco's incantation sent a few stray pillows back to their rightful place on Viktor's high-backed, wooden chair.

It was a Durmstrang custom that students of fifteen and over choose a 'Diener', a younger student to serve them. It was thought that the Dieners would learn from their close proximity to the older pupils and learn respect, humility and adopt a more mature attitude as a result. Viktor had chosen Draco in the first week of term, when Draco was an impressionable, homesick eleven-year-old.

Draco had quickly learned that Viktor didn't treat him as badly as other fifth formers treated their younger students, but he resented the hard, menial tasks he was expected to perform for Viktor. But fire, fire was a luxury Draco enjoyed daily and it was usually enough to raise his spirits for the day ahead.

He stared into the flames and thought about his parents. Four years ago they decided to send him to Durmstrang, and each summer he decided to tell them that he hated it. He hated being a Diener, he hated the food, he hated the cold, and he hated  _Ordinarius_  Karkaroff. But every time he tried to get the words out, he couldn't. He was heir to the House of Malfoy. Deserting wasn't an option.

*****

 _Draco Malfoy peered around the doorframe of the grand dining hall, at his parents. It was the night before his eleventh birthday and he was waiting to say goodnight. Narcissa Malfoy, resplendent in a gown of cloth-of-silver and ropes of silver-mounted emeralds, and Lucius Malfoy, dressed in forest green robes and a black velvet smoking jacket, glowered at each other down the length of the long mahogany dining table._

 _Draco ate with his governess in his apartments, but knew that his parents dined together at eight in the evening. Stealing a glance at the tall grandfather clock in the hall behind him, Draco could see that it was nearly ten and was curious. What could have kept his parents in the dining hall this late? Draco had expected to find them in their apartments, dancing to an elegant waltz or a quick, sharp tango. He loved to watch his parents dance, they seemed to read each other's thoughts, to know their steps and each other so well that they were almost one dancer, moving fluidly from one step to the next._

 _'I don't want him to go to_ _ **that**_   _school,' Narcissa flared her nostrils and wrung her beautiful hands. 'It's so far away, they don't even speak English there, how will he cope?'_

 _'We will get him a_   
_  
**tutor**   
_   
_, Cissa, and don't forget, Draco and I are descended from Armand Malfoi, a great linguist who could speak almost every language in Europe, including parseltongue. I doubt Draco would have a problem with the language.' Lucius took a sip of wine from a crystal goblet, fortifying himself against his wife. The fight had been long and hard and had soured an excellent dinner and evening that had potentially could have been pleasant. Lucius breathed deeply, preparing for the next onslaught._

 _'I'm not doubting that our son is intelligent enough to learn another language, but he would have to speak it constantly to be confident enough to use it as his main tongue. Don't you think it's unfair, Lucius?' Narcissa pleaded, hoping that her husband would understand her concerns and stop brushing them under the carpet. She wasn't warming to his idea to send their only child to a school that was not only out of the country, but was_ _ **somewhere**_   _in eastern Europe. She didn't like the idea of Draco being_ _ **somewhere**_ _. She wanted to know where it was, how far away he would be, what he would be facing when he got there. Lucius didn't seem to understand her fears._

 _'You dismissed Beauxbatons Academy straightaway and we Malfoys have been pupils there for centuries. What was I to do, I was forced to look for a different school and Durmstrang is the only other magical school in Europe, Cissa.'_

 _Narcissa fiddled with her cutlery, making a screeching sound on her silver charger plate. Lucius set his teeth and closed his eyes against the painful sound._

 _'Sorry.' Narcissa smiled sweetly and laid her cutlery down once more._

 _'_   
_  
**Cissa**   
_   
_,' Lucius chastised, and smiled as his strong-willed wife dropped her gaze guiltily. 'I know you're upset, but I am thinking of Draco's future. Durmstrang will make a good wizard of him. I know the headmaster, he's an old friend. Draco will be safe with Igor.'_

 _'Beauxbatons and Durmstrang aren't close by, Lucius. Hogwarts is a_ _ **British**_   _school, at least it is in the same country. It has been good enough for generations of Blacks, Draco is half-Black too, you know.' Narcissa looked away from Lucius resentfully and folded her arms._

 _Draco, listening from the doorway, felt alarm rising in his stomach. He hadn't given much thought to going to school. For as long as he could remember, he had been taught by Amorette de Malfoi, a second-cousin on the French branch of the House of Malfoy. His history lessons had consisted of the illustrious history of the House of Malfoy from their beginnings as Frankish barons, to their presence in the courts of French kings and now, their great influence in European politics._

 _Draco danced beautifully, was an eloquent francophone, had elegant handwriting and was taught that when he became head of the British Malfoy family, the eyes of the House would be upon him. He was proud of his family's history and deeds and eager to prove that he was as good as any of his ancestors. Draco hadn't considered going to a school. He thought that Amorette would continue to teach him._

 _'Don't I just know it,' Lucius retorted. 'Cissa, I want what is best for Draco, and I think Durmstrang is the perfect place for him to grow up. The Blacks coddle their children. You were spoilt as a child, Narcissa, I can see it now, and you're trying to spoil my son.'_

 _'Your son, your heir!' Narcissa shouted. 'Why is this all about the Malfoys? What about what Draco wants?'_

 _'Don't raise your voice at me, Narcissa.' Lucius said, his voice low and threatening._

 _Draco leant back against the corridor wall, breathing fast. He listened hard to what his parents would say next._

 _'I love you, Lucius, and I know you want the best for our child, but I can't willingly send Draco to a school in the middle of nowhere.' Narcissa said, her voice quiet, tempered with sadness._

 _'Cissa, it is time for him to grow into a young man.' Lucius rose from his high-backed seat and strode down the length of the table to his wife's side. He extended his hand and she took it, elegantly rising, her full skirt swirling with the action._

 _Lucius smiled and Narcissa's sadness melted. He raised their clasped hands and twirled her into his arms and, without music, they melted together into a smooth Viennese waltz. With the absence of raised voices, Draco peered through the doorway once more, and watched with admiration as his parents took to the floor, as graceful as ever, as if their disagreement had never been._

 _'Goodnight,' Draco whispered and tiptoed away, happy that the argument was over, but concerned that his future was so clouded._

*****

Viktor burst into the room, letting a draught of cold air swirl inside and cause the fire and lanterns to splutter. Draco jumped to his feet and bowed his head. Viktor slammed the door behind him and smiled in satisfaction.

'Danke, Malfoy,' he grinned, a rare sight. The Bulgarian sportsman rarely showed approval at anything. 'Today iss a great day,' Viktor smiled and sank into his large wooden chair. 'You should be pleased Malfoy,' Viktor turned to Draco. 'Thanks to me you're goink home,'

Draco looked up, his longing for home undisguised in his eyes. 'What? What do you mean?'

'The Dreihexenmeister Turnier.' Viktor shrugged, as if Draco should have known. 'It's beink helt in your homelant and I haff been se-lekted to represent the school, and, maybe, become it's champion.'

'I'm going too?' Hope rose in Draco's voice.

'Off course, Malfoy. You are my Diener. It iss your duty.' Viktor examined the handle of his Firebolt and Draco came back down to earth with a bump. Of course he would be going. Viktor still needed someone to make his breakfast, still needed his furs brushed, still needed his bed made.

'Yes, Viktor,' Draco said, softly.

*****

 _Draco hugged his fur cloak tightly to his body as the dual line of first form students, one for males and one for females, advanced into Durmstrang's grand meeting chamber. As soon as he had arrived at the Durmstrang Institute, Draco had been aware of the cold, the constant, painful, biting cold. He looked around at the other first formers and felt ashamed that he wasn't bearing up as well as they were._

 _A blonde girl with pretty green eyes, her hair arranged in plaits across her head, was chatting animatedly in rapid German with a dark-haired boy in front of him. Draco was astonished to see she enjoyed the cold, her fur hood was thrown back and her cheeks were pink from the cold, but her eyes showed her excitement._

 _Draco was far from excited. He was even far from curious. He had seen enough. He wanted to go home._

 _There was a rapping sound of metal hitting wood and the white noise of students' chatter ceased. Draco looked upwards to a raised platform and a rough wooden lectern. A bearded man, wearing a tall fur hat and warm fur cloak was tapping a coin against the lectern._

 _'Ich heiß e Ordinarius Karkaroff, der Oberstudiendirektor. Wllkommen in Durmstrang Institut.' The man introduced himself and Draco had a feeling that his father had told him about the wrong man. Igor Karkaroff was not the genial, well-spoken man that Lucius Malfoy had spoken of. This Igor Karkaroff stared down at the first formers and demanded their subservience. Draco swallowed cold air. 'There are certain expectations placed upon our first formers,' Ordinarius Karkaroff paced the lectern, aware that the eyes of the two hundred and fifty first formers were following him, and enjoying his power. 'It is in the grand tradition of Durmstrang that our older students choose a Diener, an apprentice, from the first form.'_

 _Draco felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He was going to be chosen to 'serve' an older pupil? Surely his father wouldn't allow it? A little of his pompous, spoiled nature returned in the face of so much adversity._

 _'I won't be a servant!' he announced, in English, before he could stop himself. The other students around him gasped and began muttering amongst themselves. The others did not understand him, they all spoke German as it was the lingua franca of the school, but other than that they spoke the native tongues of their respective countries. Draco was the only English-speaker amongst them._

 _'You won't, will you?' Ordinarius Karkaroff looked Draco straight in the eye. His clear voice carried well over the muttering first formers. 'Maybe my old friend Lucius should see how badly his son is behaving, a little over thirty minutes after he has arrived?'_

 _Draco shook his head. Whatever happened, his father couldn't know that he had embarrassed himself like this, embarrassed the family name._

 _'Nein? Fair enough, young Malfoy. We shall keep it to ourselves, ja?' Karkaroff laughed mirthlessly. 'You will stand beside me. You shall be Diener for someone of my own choosing.'_

 _Draco's cheeks burned with shame as he felt two hundred and forty nine pairs of eyes burn into his back. He reluctantly stepped up on to the podium beside Ordinarius Karkaroff, who grinned at him, his wiry beard blending in with the fur of his coat._

 _The Dieners were chosen alphabetically by nationality. Karkaroff clapped Draco on the shoulder as one by one, Albanian first formers were being picked off by the older students. Following them, Belarussian first formers were quickly snapped up by their older fellows. As the Bulgarian first formers stepped up, Karkaroff gazed into the group of older students and pointed at one._

 _'Krum!' he called, and Draco saw a dark-haired boy wearing the blood-red house coat the students were to wear inside the castle. Krum made his way to Karkaroff's podium._

 _In a much friendlier manner than he had addressed Draco, Ordinarius Karkaroff placed a fatherly arm around Krum's shoulders and gestured towards Draco._

 _'Viktor, I have chosen your Diener for this year, Mr Malfoy from England.'_

 _Draco shrank under Krum's scrutiny, feeling like he was being tested and wondering whether he would pass._

 _'He iss ack-septibel.' Krum said, his English heavily accented, unlike Ordinarius Karkaroff's speech. Draco exhaled with relief. He was acceptable. That was more than what he had expected._


	2. Chapter 2

_Draco frowned deeply as he dragged the coarse comb through the thick fur of the coat, as quickly as he was able to, over and over. There was something stuck in it, and the fur had to be perfect, absolutely perfect, for the arrival at Hogwarts, which was imminent. Draco had brushed most of it until it shone, but this stubborn patch refused to be fixed. What on earth had got on it? And the worst thing of all was, it wasn't even his fur. It wasn't even him who would be striding into the Great Hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, ready to participate in the fabled Triwizard Tournament. Not him who was to be the Champion representing Durmstrang._

'Malfoy! Wo ist mein Mantel?' called Viktor Krum's voice from above, where the older boys were talking and laying about and gambling, as usual. 

'Es ist fast bereit!' Draco called, working even faster on the fur. 

'Ich wünsche es jetzt!' Viktor yelled. ‚Wir sind hier!' 

With a sigh, Draco gave the fur one last brush, folded it hastily and hurried up the stairs. The ten or so final year students stared indolently at him as he handed the fur to Viktor, who at least muttered 'Danke' as he shrugged it over his shoulders, and, thankfully, didn't seem to notice the small sticky patch. With a shrug and a nod of his head, he dismissed Draco. 

Draco climbed the stairs to the deck wearily, the tips of his ears turning red as he heard the others making fun of his accent. His German was excellent now, but still they found something to criticise. He supposed he ought to be used to it, after three years at the school where German was the teaching language. He tried to eavesdrop, but tuned out as they switched to Bulgarian. His Russian was good and his Polish and Czech passable, but Bulgarian he had given up on entirely, which was probably why the older boys spoke it so frequently, at least when he was around. 

Anyway, that was of little consequence now, and Draco forgot all about Viktor and his cohorts as he came up on deck. The other eleven dieners, one for each of the prospective Champions, were already at the railing, several of them leaning percariously over. The ship was just rising from the lake. Draco joined the edge of the row of boys and watched fixedly as Hogwarts Castle hove into view. 

One of the other boys whistled. Draco just stood silently and drank in the sight. The castle was enormous, and covered in towers and turrets and all of those things one would expect from a proper castle. It was stately and dignified, not at all like squat, unrefined Durmstrang. To their right was a large, imposing forest, and to the left, green, rolling downs. As the ship rose higher in the water, more of the castle revealed itself, and Draco drank in every detail, almost forgetting even to blink. 

As the boat was anchored, the champion hopefuls came on deck. Most of them barely glanced at the castle, and those that did professed indifference or even scorn. But what should Draco have expected? What did they know of taste or elegance? 

Draco watched wistfully as they disembarked and headed for the castle. They would be entering the Great Hall soon. The ceiling in there was enchanted - he had read about it in his mother's copy of Hogwarts: A History. How unjust that they should see it and be unable to appreciate it, while he was so close, but stuck on this horrible, damp ship. 

Draco must have looked thoroughly miserable, because one of the other dieners called: 

'Was ist los, Malfoy?', then disappeared below without waiting to hear what was bothering him. 

From the sounds that emanated from the lower room, they were taking the opportunity to have some kind of party while Karkaroff and the older boys were at the castle. Draco, of course, was not invited, and would be ignored if he went in anyway. To be a diener was to be looked down on and ordered about and demeaned daily, and even they would not lower themselves to speak to Draco. 

Now that Draco had the deck to himself, he found a better spot and settled down to watch the castle. Lights flickered past the windows occasionally, and sometimes people went in or out. He had read Hogwarts: A History so often that he could quote long passages, and watching the castle now he wondered exactly where the famed bust of Paracelsus was, and if anyone was on a moving staircase right now, and which of the towers was which. 

After the light had faded, Draco went the long way around to his room to avoid the other dieners. The sleeping arrangements were such that each final year student slept in a room above his diener, so that they could be summoned at a moment's notice by way of a knock on the floor. This, in practice, meant that the dieners slept practically in the bilge. It smelled musty and damp and thoroughly unpleasant, but the mattress was soft enough and he had plenty of blankets. Draco wrapped himself up and fell asleep. 

It seemed that Draco had barely gone to sleep when he heard the thudding above him which signalled that Viktor was ready for his breakfast. 

The days blurred together after that, since each one was similar to the one before. Viktor would wake Draco by banging on the floor, and Draco would fetch Viktor's breakfast before getting something for himself. There was always plenty to eat and Viktor took so long dressing that Draco was usually able to linger over breakfast. After that there would be lessons, taught by Karkaroff or sometimes by the older boys. Draco did tolerably well in all of his classes, and so this part of the day held only the usual dread of being ridiculed by his classmates, which no longer had much power over him since it happened so frequently. After classes would be dinner, and then the older students might go over to the castle. If Viktor didn't go over, there would inevitably soon be a gaggle of girls on the edge of the lake, trying to look nonchalant while peering ridiculously to catch a glimpse of the Champion. For Viktor had been chosen to represent Durmstrang in the Triwizard Tournament. Draco had expected nothing else, and so the announcement barely interested him. There had been a party that night too, another one to which he was not invited. Most nights, Viktor dismissed Draco after dinner, and he was free to go to his room and do his homework. Draco's routine never changed. Until the day that Viktor brought a Hogwarts girl to the ship. 


	3. Chapter 3

_Draco was sitting in his room, puzzling over a particularly tricky bit of Transfiguration work. He had been dismissed for the evening and so he was not concerned when he heard Viktor's voice on deck. He knew the older boy had been over to Hogwarts, and if so this was earlier than he usually returned, but that was not Draco's concern._

After a moment, Draco realised that there was someone else talking with Viktor - a girl's voice. And it didn't sound like any of the Durmstrang girls. It sounded almost like English... Draco didn't hear a great deal of English during termtime, and he was interested. He tilted his head to the ceiling in order to hear better, but it was unnecessary, because in a moment Viktor called him. 

'Malfoy!' 

Draco put his homework aside and scrambled up to the deck as quickly as he could, to stand before Viktor and the mysterious girl. She was wearing a Hogwarts uniform, and she had bushy hair and brown eyes. She was looking at him with unabashed curiosity. 

'Fetch us a drink,' said Viktor, and Draco dashed to obey. 

As he fixed the drinks in the small galley, his mind raced. Viktor had brought a Hogwarts girl to the ship? Why had he done it? Would she be coming back again? Perhaps he would get a chance to ask her a few questions about the castle, the questions which had been burning in his mind since the day they had arrived. 

When he returned, Viktor and the girl were sitting on a bench on the deck, talking. The girl seemed to be making most of the conversation. Draco noticed that she spoke well and clearly. He handed them their drinks. 

'Thank you,' said the girl, 'I'm Hermione Granger.' She extended a hand and he took it uncertainly. 

'Draco Malfoy,' he said, looking down from her interested gaze. 

She smiled. Viktor clicked his fingers and Draco went to wait down below in case he was needed for anything else. Since he didn't know when Viktor would call him again, he didn't want to go down to his room and fetch his homework, so he just sat and listened. Viktor and the girl, Hermione, talked for a long while and he listened, even though he couldn't make out the words. 

All through his lessons the next day, Draco wondered about Hermione. He knew that lots of the Hogwarts girls had been following Viktor around, and it was only natural. He was, after all, a champion Quidditch player and a contestant in the fabled Triwizard Tournament. But Viktor had only ever expressed irritation and boredom with these girls, calling them 'ridiculous' and 'ignorant'. What had changed? Were they just friends, or was there something more between them? 

And Draco was intrigued by the way she had looked him frankly in the eye. His life was a curious mix of attitudes and behaviour - at school he was looked down on, and nobody ever made eye contact, much less smiled at him. At home he was universally adored and respected and treated with delicacy. But Hermione had looked him in the eye as if they were equals. Who was she, anyway? 

The single sentence she had spoken to him reverberated through his head all day.  _I'm Hermione Granger..._   _I'm Hermione Granger._ Wasn't there an old wizarding family named Granger? Draco felt sure he had been introduced to someone... He remembered suddenly as he stirred his beetle eyes clockwise into his murtlap essence in his Potions lesson that afternoon - Androitus Dagworth-Granger was a business contact of his father's. They had been introduced once in Knockturn Alley. The Dagworth-Grangers were a famous potion-making family. So she was a Pureblood. That would explain her easy elegance and confident bearing, as well as Viktor's interest in her. Of course Viktor wouldn't fall for just any Hogwarts girl. 

Draco's curiosity about Hermione only intensified when she returned to the ship that evening. He was in his room, again poring over his school work, when he heard her smooth, measured voice along with Viktor's low one. He couldn't return to his work once he heard it, and it seemed to take forever before Viktor called for drinks. Draco rushed to prepare them, then hurried back up on deck towards Viktor and Hermione. 

When he arrived, Hermione was sitting on the bench, alone. Draco frowned in confusion. 

'I... here's your drink,' he said. 

'One of the other boys called Viktor away to look at something,' she said. 'I shouldn't think he'll be very long. Why don't you sit for a minute and keep me company?' 

She smiled again. Her front teeth were a little large. Draco thought it was charming. He perched uneasily on the bench, unwilling to get too comfortable. 

'You said your name was Draco?' she asked. 

'That's right - Draco Malfoy.' 

'Your English is excellent.' 

He couldn't help smiling a little. 'That's because I am English.' 

'Then, if you don't mind me asking, why aren't you at Hogwarts?' 

Draco shrugged. 'My father doesn't approve of Hogwarts, and he and Karkaroff are friends.' 

'Oh, I see.' Said Hermione tersely. 

'Oh, no, I didn't mean to say that  _I_  don't like Hogwarts!' Draco hastened to explain. 'I mean, I wanted to go, but my father wouldn't allow it. He thinks that...' 

Draco cut off his explanation as Viktor returned, glaring at Draco, who was in his seat. 

'Here's your drink, Viktor,' Draco said meekly, before retreating downstairs again. He heard Hermione call a goodbye, but he expected that he would be in even more trouble with Viktor than he was already going to be if he replied. 

It was four days before Hermione returned. Viktor had gone over to Hogwarts for the evening and Draco was once again in his room. His homework was complete. A book was open on his lap, but he wasn't reading it; instead he gazed at the wall. 

His ears were constantly straining to hear Hermione's voice on deck, but this time her visit took him by surprise. Because she came to see him. 

The knock on his door startled him, because Viktor always just shouted when he was needed, and nobody else ever spoke to him out of school hours. He just sat there for a few moments, unsure what the noise meant. 

'It's Hermione; can I come in?' her voice said from the other side of the door. 

Draco swallowed. 'Of course!' he said. 

As the door creaked open, he cast a panicked glance around his room. Of course it was tidy - there was nothing to worry about. Draco was always neat. 

'I hope you don't mind me coming to visit you like this,' Hermione said, sitting on the edge of Draco's small desk. 

'Not at all,' he said. 

'It's just that I wanted to talk to you. Viktor doesn't know I'm here; he's over at the castle.' 

'Oh.' 

'Is that alright?' 

'Fine.' 

'Well, I'm just curious, to be honest. Viktor explained to me about the younger students serving the older ones, but it seems rather silly and outmoded to me. Do you find it's instilled in you a sense of responsibility at all?' 

'The Diener system has worked for Durmstrang for centuries...' 

'That isn't what I asked.' 

'It's not so bad.' He shrugged. 

Hermione sighed, and cast her gaze around his room. Her eyes lit up at the sight on the book on his bed. 

'Have you actually read this?' she asked, reaching over to grab it and inspect the cover. 

'Several times,' said Draco. 

'And you enjoyed it?' 

'Yes. It's one of my favourites.' 

'Me too! But nobody else has read it! Sometimes I think they just don't want to!' 

Her eyes widened as she saw the stamp inside the front cover. 'Does this mean what I think it means?' 

Draco nodded. 

'Really? Oh, just wait until I tell Ron and Harry that you have an  _actual First Edition_  of Hogwarts: A History! They'll  _have_  to be impressed at that!' 

Draco smiled weakly. 

'Have you been into the castle yet?' Hermione asked. 

Draco shook his head. 

'Ooh, then perhaps I could give you a tour sometime? It really is a beautiful place. Some of the windows are...' 

'Malfoy!' 

Hermione stopped as Viktor's voice rang from above them. Draco got up. 

'Oh, don't go,' she said, 'stay here and talk to me. This is all very interesting.' 

'I have to, Viktor is calling for me.' 

'Well, let him. He can come and fetch you if it's that important.' 

'No! And you can't let him know you spoke to me!' 

'Well, why not? It's a free country, isn't it?' 

'I'd be in so much trouble - please, Hermione...' 

He cast her a desperate glance before dashing up the stairs to see what Viktor wanted. It turned out he needed his summer cloak fetching, and Draco obliged. When he returned, Hermione had joined Viktor on deck and was chatting away while he nodded at every other sentence. He glared at her - did she want him to get into trouble? Didn't she understand? 

Hermione returned the next day, while Viktor was out exploring with his friends. Draco only shrugged in answer to her greeting, but he couldn't stay cross at her for long, when he saw what she had brought. 

'Look!' she said with a flourish, 'I got you something!' 

She tipped her bag upside down and the contents fell onto his bed - four books on the history of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. 

'I borrowed them from the library, so I'll have to take them back eventually, but I thought you might like a look,' she said, sitting on his bed and kicking off her shoes as is if was the most natural thing in the world, 'and I brought my Potions homework with me - there are a couple of things I'm not clear on and I wondered if you might have an opinion.' 

Draco leafed hungrily through the books, stopping to look at some coloured plates of famous paintings in the castle, then sat down beside Hermione to look at the bit of parchment she proffered. 

'Viktor won't be back until after dinner, so I can spend the whole afternoon here if I like,' she said as he read it. 

Draco blushed. Hermione, spend an entire afternoon with him? He wasn't sure whether to be glad or intimidated. 

'Ah,' he said, as he read over the parchment, 'I think your problem here is that you're confusing the two different potions which can be distilled from the same root. The one in your ingredients list certainly would produce that result, but I think it's the other one that you actually need...' 

She bent her head closer to look. 

After that, Hermione visited often, always making sure that Viktor would be away when she came. She and Draco did their homework together - or if they had none, they discussed the books they were reading or practised the spells they had learned that week. Their curriculums were very different, and so they learned twice as much as they would have alone. 

Draco was thrilled to have found someone who shared his enthusiasm for learning - never before had he had someone to talk to about the fascinating properties of monkshood; nobody had ever expressed delight at his theories on the evolution of antidotes. Hermione knew even more than he did about Potions, but he supposed that everyone in her family did - one of the Dagworth-Grangers had founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. His lessons began to take on a new appeal, when he thought of how he would discuss the work later with Hermione, and perhaps she would mention some fact that didn't come up during the lesson, and he would then deduce from that a further idea on the topic, and she would expand on it... 

It was intellectual bliss, and Draco revelled in it. It was only after a while that he realised - sitting in his room after Hermione had left one evening, still smiling about the argument they had had over which spell to use to clean up the ink she had spilled all over his robes - that it wasn't only the opportunity to learn new things that was so heartening to him. Draco had made his first friend. 

'So, what do your parents do? Do they work?' Draco asked one afternoon, as they sat in his room, poring over  _Hogsmeade: Origins and Development._

'Oh, they're both dentists,' said Hermione, 'which is a bit of a trial for me, as you might imagine.' 

She grinned. 

'What's a dentist?' Draco asked, deeply interested. 

'Oh, they're sort of like Healers, only Muggles, and they specialise in teeth,' Hermione explained, 'then there are orthodontists, who...' 

' _Muggles_?' said Draco, 'you're a  _Mudblood_?' 

There was horror and disgust in his voice, but it paled in comparison to the same emotions in Hermione's face as she stared at him, lip trembling, then snatched up her books and ran from the room. 

Draco couldn't sleep that night - the dialogue in his head refused to let him rest and he tossed and turned, trying to think of something, anything else. 

_She betrayed me! She made me think she was Pureblood!_

_**But she never mentioned it at all! You just leapt to the conclusion that pleased you best.** _

_Of course she didn't mention it - would you admit it if you were a Mudblood?_

_**She didn't seem ashamed to talk about her parents... and she's so clever, and composed, and nothing like how you thought a Mudblood would be...** _

_It doesn't matter that she doesn't_ seem  _like a Mudblood, she_ is  _one!_

_**Everyone at Durmstrang is Pureblood, and see how they treat you! Maybe purity isn't everything.** _

_But she's a_ Mudblood _!_

Draco went through his lessons the next day sleepy and hollow eyed. When Viktor went across to Hogwarts he found himself waiting for Hermione to arrive, then shook his head angrily. It was doubtful that she would be coming back at all. 

Over the next few weeks, Draco began to look even paler than usual, and his lessons suffered, as did his duties for Viktor. Several times he forgot instructions or did things sloppily or incorrectly. 

Often, he found himself making a note to mention something to Hermione, before belatedly remembering that they were not speaking any more. 

One evening, once Viktor had dismissed him, he sat at his desk to write. It took several discarded attempts before he was satisfied: 

_Dear Hermione,_

_I want to apologise for my awful behaviour on the last day that I saw you. I feel very ashamed now for calling you such an offensive name, but more ashamed of the sentiment behind it._

_You must understand that I was brought up to believe in the superiority of Purebloods, and it is difficult for me to accept that things may not be as I had always thought. I am forced to conclude that my parents were wrong about Muggle-borns - you are obviously no less of a witch than any Pureblood._   _In fact, you're much better than all of the Durmstrang girls._

_If you never want to speak to me again, I understand, but I wanted to apologise and let you know that I am trying to change._

_Yours repentantly,_

_Draco._

Draco folded and sealed the parchment and took it to one of the owls up on the deck. 

'Take this to the castle,' he told it. He watched it take flight, then went back to his room. 

The next afternoon, there was a knock on Draco's door as he sat working half-heartedly on his Dark Arts homework. Without waiting for an answer, Hermione came in. She gave a shrug and a small smile, then took her usual place on Draco's bed and opened her bag to take out her books. 


	4. Chapter 4

_Draco stood at the ship's rail, looking for any glimpse of Hermione coming from the castle. It was ten o'clock on a Saturday, the first day of the Hogsmeade weekend and Hermione had promised to take him with her. Horseless coaches waited a short distance away from the lake and the Durmstrang ship and Draco assumed that the coaches were their transport to Hogsmeade._

The Dieners had Saturdays to themselves at Hogwarts since the older students they were attending practiced Quidditch and had a day of healthy exercise, which was overseen by Ordinarius Karkaroff. Draco could see the older boys swimming across the lake. The Durmstrang ship, although big, was dwarfed by the size of the lake. As he watched the swimmers make their way across the icy-cold water, he shivered in sympathy.

Viktor was way out in front of the other boys, cutting through the water as if he was made for it. Draco knew as well as any Durmstrang student that Viktor deserved to be their champion. He was a good sportsman, a fair student and a handsome young man to boot. If Viktor hadn't been picked the school would have fainted as one.

Hogwarts in November was still a bustling hive of activity. Draco was still astonished by how different everything was. In the winters at Durmstrang, activity wound down because of the harsh weather and most things took place within the castle walls. At Hogwarts, however, activities were still happening as late as nine o'clock at night, such as open-air concerts held by the school choir and orchestra, inter-house and friendly Quidditch matches and even the duelling club practiced outside.

The weather surprised him too. It wasn't as cold as the weather at Durmstrang and he found that he quite liked the fresh air at Hogwarts and laughed at Hermione as she stamped her feet and pulled mittens on to warm herself. She hadn't taken offence and admitted she felt a bit silly feeling cold around him when he had experienced much harsher weather than she had.

The other Dieners were catching up with their homework inside the belly of the huge ship, but Draco smiled and eagerly thought of the free day he was going to have. Hermione had stubbornly demanded to help him with all of his tasks and homework over the week to make sure he would be free all day today.

His smile grew wider as he caught sight of a bushy-haired figure running towards the ship from the castle. The little figure waved and Draco waved back before climbing down the gangway to the shore of the lake. Hermione was breathless when she reached him and her cheeks were red from the morning cold snap.

'You ready to go?' she grinned. 'We're going to be quite busy today, there's a lot to show you!'

Draco grinned back happily. 'I'm ready,' he replied.

Hermione linked her arm with Draco and tugged him towards the waiting coaches. She was wearing Muggle clothing under her thick outer cloak and a Gryffindor scarf was slung around her neck to keep in the heat. Draco pretended not to notice what she was wearing and hoped that she wouldn't comment about him still wearing his Durmstrang uniform. Draco didn't have any casual clothes with him. At Durmstrang the students only wore their uniforms; there were no occasions when they would need casual clothes.

Draco's cheeks burned with embarrassment, but Hermione mistook his glowing face for the cold and rubbed his arm with her mittened hand.

'Are you cold?' she asked. 'I'm freezing!'

He smiled, glad that she hadn't picked up his embarrassment. 'I am a little cold.'

They reached a carriage and Hermione waved to the pupils inside. 'We'll warm up once we're inside,' she said. 'I want you to meet my best friends; I've been telling them all about you!'

Draco felt a surge of cold fear inside him. Hermione was friendly...but it didn't mean that all Hogwarts pupils were. What if he made a fool of himself? Draco actually considered saying goodbye to Hermione and going back to the ship. He had looked forward to spending the day with her...he hadn't given a thought to her friends at school and whether they would be there too.

The carriage door swung open and Hermione clambered inside, holding her hand out to Draco to pull him up beside her. 'Come on!' she said, her eyes shining with excitement. 'The sooner you get in, the sooner we can be off!'

Draco swallowed his fear and climbed up beside Hermione. The inside of the carriage was dark, but he could see Hermione's friends by the light of the weak lamp suspended from the ceiling of the carriage. One boy was tall and red-haired, sitting quite stiffly in his seat. He appeared to be measuring Draco up and looked quite disapproving. The other boy was shorter, but sat no less stiffly. His untidy black hair seemed to melt into the darkness and his bright green eyes bored into Draco through the boy's round glasses. Draco quickly looked to Hermione to introduce them to him, not really knowing what to say for himself.

Hermione patted his arm in reassurance. 'This is Draco; he's the Durmstrang pupil I've been telling you about,' she said.

The dark-haired boy held out his hand. 'I'm Harry,' he said, offering a smile, although it was a guarded one. Draco took Harry's hand with his thin, bony one and shook it.

The red-haired boy looked down at his slightly freckled hands and inspected a fingernail. He jolted upright from an insistent kick by Hermione. 'I'm Ron,' he offered his hand to Draco, who took it, feeling uneasy that both of Hermione's friends were reluctant to talk to him or look at him. He felt just like he was back at Durmstrang again, being looked down upon.

With a jolt, the carriage began to move. Ron pulled the curtains open to expose a window, letting in more light. The beautiful Scottish scenery rolled past the window and the silence in the carriage was palpable.

'So, Draco's really interested in the history of Hogwarts...' Hermione said breezily, smiling in a forced manner. 'I don't think I've ever told you about the different houses we have.'

Draco nodded, leaning closer to her, hoping she would lead them as if it was left to the three boys, he had a pretty strong feeling that the conversation would die a grim death.

Harry and Ron were still sitting stiffly, although their shoulders dropped a little, which indicated to Draco they weren't as opposed to him as he'd first thought. Hermione patted Ron's shoulder and said, 'Ron and I are in Gryffindor, its members are supposed to be paragons of chivalry and virtue. The house colours are red and gold. Whereas Harry is a member of Slytherin, the house for the ambitious and ruthless.'

Ron grinned at Harry. 'Yeah, you're our slithery pal, aren't you mate?' Turning to Draco, Ron said, 'Traditionally Gryffindors and Slytherins don't get on...but us three get on fine.'

Hermione gave Ron a grateful smile and the tangerine-haired boy's ears turned pink. Draco looked from Ron to Harry and asked, 'Well, why is that a house tradition? Is it related to Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin's disagreement a thousand years ago?'

'You could say that,' Harry offered. 'But these days it's just limited to friendly inter-house rivalry.'

'Especially when it comes to Quidditch,' Hermione grinned. 'Ron and I are always torn over who to support at school - Ron's brothers play for Gryffindor, but Harry is seeker for Slytherin, the youngest player at Hogwarts in a century!'

Draco made suitably impressed noises. He was involved in Quidditch because of Viktor, who played seeker for his homeland's national team. At home Draco only played because it made his father happy, Draco being much more at home watching the game than playing it himself, however he appreciated the skill and fitness that went into playing the athletic game.

The journey to Hogsmeade passed in a pleasant fashion as the four chatted about their respective schools. Harry and Ron made friendly, but exasperated, groans when Draco revealed he was just as much of a bookworm as Hermione, and the three boys groaned in friendly exasperation when Hermione failed to appreciate the importance of the Wronski Feint in eastern European Quidditch tactics.

Hermione pointed out a crooked old wooden signpost and smiled at her three companions. 'We're here!' she announced.

Draco gathered his furs about him and stepped down from the carriage, his feet sinking into the snow. All around him people bustled around, laden with shopping bags, talking loudly about the Triwizard Tournament and their predictions on who would be the eventual winner. Draco was stunned by the noise. At Durmstrang a student could only speak if spoken to by an older student or a teacher. Even outdoors at Durmstrang, there was silence.

Hermione tapped Draco's shoulder and gestured toward a brightly painted, welcoming pub. 'We generally start off with a drink in the Three Broomsticks,' she smiled, 'helps us warm up a bit before we have a look around. It's hard to enjoy yourself if you're an icicle.'

Ron blew on his hands, even though they were enclosed in warm woollen gloves, and stamped his feet in the snow. 'We'd better hurry then, Hermione,' he said, steam issuing from his mouth like dragon's breath. 'I really don't want to turn into an icicle.' Harry just laughed and cuffed his friend on the shoulder.

The two set off towards the Three Broomsticks and Hermione and Draco followed, Hermione keeping a hold on Draco's arm to stop him wandering off. She grinned at him, watching him watch his surroundings, his eyes following a group of Hufflepuffs walk into Zonko's, a Hufflepuff boy and Slytherin girl, arm in arm, leaving the joke shop, then watching a mixed bunch of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors having a snowball fight in the street. She almost didn't want to drag him inside the pub, she didn't want him to waste a second of his day off...but her mittened hand touched his icy bare wrist, and she was again aware of the cold and how little he would enjoy himself if he was, as she had said before, an icicle.

Hermione led Draco into the brightly-lit welcoming pub and weaved her way through the throng of students and teachers to a quiet table Ron and Harry had managed to acquire. Four warm butterbeers sat waiting on the table and Hermione ushered Draco into a seat beside Harry, before it was whisked away by a third-year Ravenclaw, as Hermione took a seat beside Ron.

'Try that,' Ron said to Draco and gestured towards the bottle of butterbeer. 'It warms you up something lovely!'

Draco took a sip and the golden yellow liquid seemed to warm him from the inside out, right to the tips of his fingers and toes. 'I feel really warm!' he said, and looked at his fingers. They had lost their pinched white look and were warm, full and pink.

Hermione smiled at Ron again and took a sip of her own butterbeer, which Harry and Ron had decorated with a cocktail umbrella and sparkly straw. Taking a slip of parchment, a small bottle of ink and a quill out of her pocket, Hermione smoothed the parchment on the table and used the boys' bottles to stop it from rolling up. She dipped her quill in the violet ink and then looked around eagerly at her companions. 'Where shall we go first? I wanted to draw up an itinerary for the day before we left, but I didn't have enough time because I was busy adding a diagram to our research project for Professor McGonagall.' She looked up expectantly.

Draco watched as Harry and Ron shared a look. 'Hermione...is it really necessary for us to have a plan?' Harry asked, carefully. Hermione gave the two a withering look and then turned to Draco, who shrugged. In her neat script, Hermione wrote '10:30 - The Three Broomsticks' at the top of the parchment and then waited expectantly, her quill hovering over the parchment.

Giving Ron and Harry pointed looks, Hermione twitched her quill earnestly. Ron elbowed Harry. 'Um...Honeydukes...?' he offered.

Hermione turned to Draco. 'Do you want to visit the sweetshop?'

Draco nodded. 'I wouldn't mind going anywhere. I haven't been to Hogsmeade before today, but I'm imagining it's pretty much like my hometown, Imber, in Wiltshire. To Muggles it appears to be abandoned, but it's a pretty thriving community.'

Harry leaned forwards on his elbows, interested in what Draco was saying and Ron leant back in his seat, trying to read over Hermione's shoulder at the growing list of establishments on her piece of parchment, his eyebrows making alarmed red signals at the ground Hermione expected them to cover in a single day.

'Well, boys always love going to Zonko's,' Hermione said, writing quickly, but very legibly, on the parchment. 'And Dervish and Banges has some interesting things...' She looked up at Ron. 'Don't you think so?'

Ron made an 'eep' sound and shrugged, appealing to Harry with his eyes.

Harry detached the butterbeer bottles from the parchment and turned it around to face him and Draco. 'It really depends on what you want to do today,' Harry said to Draco, whilst Hermione took a sip of her butterbeer and Ron inwardly berated himself for not having any suggestions for Hermione.

'After all,' Harry said, 'we've been here loads of times and this is your first trip. We're pretty easy about where we go today.'

Draco scanned the list Hermione had drawn up.  _Hogsmeade_   _General Post Office, Honeydukes Scrivenshaft's, Zonko's, Dervish and Banges..._  Zonko's Joke Shop had a branch in Imber, so Draco was well acquainted with their stock; the same went for Scrivenshaft's, a chain of wizarding stationary shops with branches in Hogsmeade, Imber, Spinner's End, Godric's Hollow and Diagon Alley. 'Is there a Hogsmeade map?' Draco asked.

Hermione smiled. 'No, Hogsmeade  _is_  a tourist attraction but it's not quite Alton Towers. They haven't started to hand out town maps yet.' Harry grinned at Hermione's analogy, whereas Ron and Draco looked at her, confused.

'Alton Towers?' Ron said, his brow furrowed in contemplation. 'I think I've heard Dad talk about that place, once. Is that where Muggles go and do dangerous stuff for fun? Fred and George thought it was a great idea.'

'That's the place,' Harry grinned. 'Dudley kicked and screamed to get Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to take him there for his twelfth birthday. He was such a chicken, boasting about all the rides he'd go on when we got there and then preferring to ride on the teacups instead!'

Hermione laughed. 'I've never been. I'm not really interested in making myself sick on horrible fairground food and fast rides, plus the toffee apples and sugar dummies put Mum and Dad off, once a dentist, always a dentist!'

Draco relaxed into his seat and had another sip of his butterbeer. 'I really don't mind where we go today.'

'Well,' said Hermione, a strange glint in her eye. 'That settles it. Drink up boys, because our next stop is the Kirkyard.'

*****

Hogsmeade Kirk was an ancient chapel covered in a climbing variety of flitterblooms. The blossoms had fallen now it was winter, but the small, evergreen leaves continued to flutter by themselves. The snow covered chapel looked just like a picture from a Christmas card, and small robins pecked at a nut filled bird feeder hanging from the chapel's porch post.

Hermione led the three boys into the Kirkyard. Draco followed close behind her as the sound of Ron's teeth chattering with the cold was starting to get on his nerves. They passed by the tombstones of past inhabitants of Hogsmeade, each stone covered in varying amounts of flitterblooms, following a well-trodden path down to a small hollow where four very old, very ornate statues stood at the points of a slate compass laid on the ground.

At the northern point stood a grand eagle with her head under her wing, a stone sash with tartan markings carved around her feet. To the east, a great serpent rested, coiled upon his own tail, a locket wound around his thin neck. At the southwards point a large lion lay in repose, his great head resting on powerful paws, an ancient sword lying by his side. To the west, a sow-badger lay at rest, her body lying on a bed of leaves and earth, a double-handled cup between her front paws.

Draco gasped in wonder. 'Is this the last resting place of the four Founders?' He turned to Hermione.

She nodded, grinning. 'This is the place where the Hogwarts Four are buried. It was Helga Hufflepuff who created this small clearing in Hogsmeade Kirkyard and arranged for her friends to be buried here, together. The four had already chosen their monuments and they were already here, years before they even argued with Slytherin and split up.'

Harry was the first to enter the compass circle and he inspected the sleeping serpent's head. The stonework was astounding. The detail of the snake's scales was in itself a beautiful work of art. 'How come we've never been here before, Hermione?' he asked.

'I tried to get you both to come,' she said, as Ron looked about to ask the same question. 'But since both of you don't have any interest in reading Hogwarts: A History, when I've suggested it in the past, you preferred to go to Zonko's.' But she looked pleased as Harry continued to look at the serpent and Ron gaped at the resting lion and powerful sword by his side. 'Maybe now, you might be interested about our ancient past?' Hermione smiled.

'How many people know these are here?' Harry asked, astonished.

'As many people as have read Hogwarts: A History and know where Hogsmeade Kirkyard is.' Hermione replied, joining Ron in front of the Lion of Gryffindor.

Draco couldn't believe where he was standing. To his left was the Eagle of Ravenclaw and to his right was the Badger of Hufflepuff. Compared with the other tombstones in the kirkyard these four were very well kept, but Draco didn't understand how, since he felt too awed to touch them and couldn't imagine  _anyone_  being confident enough to touch the statues. Draco mentally hit himself for forgetting that the Founders graves were here, having had read Hogwarts: A History as closely as Hermione, he should have realised they would be here.

'Why aren't they in the school grounds though?' Ron piped up. 'Surely they should be at rest close to the school they created.'

Hermione looked at Draco, and both knew they knew the answer equally as well. For once, Hermione passed up the chance to be a know-it-all and smiled at Draco.

'The original plan was for the bodies of the four Founders to be returned to their hometowns. They didn't want any site on the school grounds to be a place of mourning. All four, despite their differences, didn't want anything to disrupt the school's activities. Witches and wizards were hated by muggles back then...the four Founders wanted to protect their students more than anything...and to do that they had to continue to learn all they could to survive.'

Hermione moved towards Draco and looked fondly at the sow-badger. 'These monuments weren't originally intended to be gravestones, only symbols of the four Founders. But after the deaths of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, Hufflepuff fulfilled Ravenclaw's last request and decided that if the four couldn't be together in life, they should, at least a small part of them should, be together in death.'

'The Founders are buried in their hometowns,' Hermione said. 'But their hearts, and their wands, are buried here in Hogsmeade.' Harry and Ron looked at the monuments of each other's house founder and the importance of bringing all four of them together wasn't lost on them.

'Thanks, Hermione,' Draco said, his eyes shining. 'Really, thank you. I never expected anything like this today.' Draco was telling the truth. His mother didn't really understand his love of history, whilst his father  _did_  take him on visits to ancient sites...but only if they had some dark significance. Hermione had really made his day.

Hermione smiled and took his arm. 'I'm your friend,' she said as easily as answering a question in Charms. 'Friends do special things for their friends.'

*****

As they settled down around a table in Madam Puddifoot's Teashop, the four were still in great awe at what Hermione had shown them. It was the first time in a long while that Hermione had seen Ron and Harry speechless and she was quite pleased by the effect. She had expected it though, after all, no one who knew any wizarding history could fail to have been moved by the four monuments of sleeping heraldic creatures.

Madam Puddifoot trotted up to their table brandishing four menus. 'Anything I can get you dears?'

Hermione took the menus and distributed them to her friends. 'Can we let you know in a minute, please?' Hermione asked, politely.

Madam Puddifoot beamed, unused to such politeness from fourteen-year-olds. 'Of course, dear. Can I get you any drinks while you're deciding?'

'A pot of tea for four, please,' Ron piped up. It was the first thing he'd said since leaving the hallowed ground. 'My Mum always recommends a cup of tea for people who've had a shock.'

Draco and Hermione looked worried. 'Didn't you like seeing the Founders' resting place?' Draco asked Ron, carefully, as Madam Puddifoot bustled off to make their tea.

'It's not that,' Ron replied. 'I just wasn't prepared for it, I mean,' Ron looked around at the other three. 'Being face to face with Gryffindor's Lion doesn't happen every day!' He managed a grin. 'I can't wait to write to Mum and Dad, they'll never believe it!'

Hermione smiled at him fondly. 'I'd write to my parents, but they probably wouldn't get its importance exactly. They'd think it was like looking at statues of saints or something.'

Harry knew what Hermione meant. 'I'll definitely write to Sirius about it. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wouldn't have an idea of how special it was.' He smiled at Hermione. 'Thanks for showing it to us.'

Draco smiled as well and knew that when he got back to the ship he would write a letter to his parents telling them that he was, genuinely, having a wonderful time. He felt no spite towards his parents for sending him to Durmstrang, but he did wish that his mother had had her way and he had gone to Hogwarts instead. He felt a pang of envy towards his new friends for being able to stay here and not having to suffer as he had suffered.

Hermione opened her menu and scanned the contents. 'I think I'm just going to have a tea cake,' she said to the table at large, and folded her menu once more. The boys looked as though they couldn't eat a thing; they were still in awe at what they had seen.

Madam Puddifoot placed the pot of tea and a jug of milk in the middle of the circular table and Hermione righted everyone's cups and began pouring out tea. Draco warmed his hands on his cup of tea and felt the happiest he had in a very long time. Harry and Ron had warmed to him, and Hermione was by his side to help him. For the first time in four long years he had made some friends.

Hermione got out her piece of parchment and crossed out a few names. 'Hmm, I don't really know how we can follow up a visit to the Founders of Hogwarts.' She scanned the list. 'Somehow Zonko's doesn't really cut it.'

Ron and Harry shrugged. Harry took a deep draught of tea.

The wafting smell of a nearby fuschia gurdyblossom made Hermione furrow her brow. She turned to Harry and Ron. 'Have you finished the essay Snape set on the importance of fresh blossoms in animation potions?'

They gave each other shifty looks and Draco smiled into his tea. Hermione had told him that Harry and Ron had a tendency to ignore their homework.

'Hermione, it's the weekend!' Ron protested.

'But it will soon be Monday the way you two procrastinate,' Hermione tutted. 'Honestly, I won't write these essays for you.'

Harry set his empty cup back down on his saucer and nudged Ron's shoulder. 'Alright,' he said, grinning. 'We know when we're not wanted.'

'We do?' Ron said a tone of minor alarm in his voice.

'Yes, Ron.' Harry practically hauled his friend to his feet. He smiled fondly at Hermione and dropped a few sickles on the table to pay for the tea. 'Bye, Draco, see you, Hermione!' Harry said brightly and led Ron out of the teashop, although Ron's soft brown eyes peeped through the window at them until Harry had managed to pull him past the shop.

'I think...' Draco didn't know how to begin. 'I think...they think...you and I...' He scratched his hairline in confusion.

Hermione laughed. 'Maybe they do.' She stirred a lump of sugar into her tea. 'But it won't harm their essays one bit!'

Draco smiled. 'Hermione...I really want to thank you for today. It's been...amazing.' He ran his hands through his white-blond hair. 'I don't really know how to thank you.'

Hermione set her cup down on its saucer. 'Draco, you don't have to do anything to thank me.' Her honest brown eyes shone.

'Is there a clothes shop here?' Draco asked, suddenly.

'Yes, Gladrags...Why?' Hermione asked.

'Come on,' he said, rising from his seat and leaving a coin purse on the table. 'I want to buy you a present, something to remind you of today.'

'No...' Hermione shook her head. 'I don't want anything...just friendship, Draco.'

He flashed her a rakish smile and felt more like himself than ever.

*****

'There...it suits you,' said Madam Aysgarth, stepping back from fixing a jewelled slide in Hermione's hair.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. Her bushy brown hair was twisted up and secured by the violet-blue, jewelled slide.

Madam Aysgarth and Draco looked at her, admiring the slide in her hair, waiting for her to say something.

'It really does suit you,' Draco said. 'I hope you'll wear it to the Yule Ball, remind you of me, even though I won't be there myself.'

A strange look passed over Hermione's face as she gently removed the slide from her hair, and Draco felt his insides sink, hoping she wasn't about to ruin a beautiful day by rejecting his friendship. But she spun on her heel and in a flurry of bushy hair she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. 'Thank you.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so here's the story: We figure that, in this alternate universe, Draco never went to Madam Malkin's to get his school robes, and hence never bumped into Harry. Harry never had the conversation with Draco about Houses, and Harry consequently didn't end up asking Hagrid about them, and so Hagrid never told him about Slytherin's bad reputation. This meant that, when the Sorting Hat wanted to put him in Slytherin, Harry had no reason to ask it not to, and so he ended up there. Since Harry had already met Ron on the train, they stayed friends despite being in different houses. This went a long way towards easing tensions between the houses - since the Boy Who Lived was a Slytherin, but was perfectly happy to be friends with Gryffindors, and people were apt to follow his example. Hence the 'friendly rivalry' that Hermione refers to. Also, since Harry was sorted into Slytherin, Snape's animosity towards him was softened somewhat and over the years he became more prepared to overlook Harry's occasional misdemeanours. This meant that Snape never went after the trio during the final events of POA, and so the trio and Sirius and Remus were able to catch Peter and clear Sirius' name, which is why Harry feels comfortable referring to him in public in this chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

_'Draco! Draco, guess what!' Hermione dashed into his room, flung her books on his bed and hopped to sit on the desk, her face flushed with excitement._

'They've discovered a new species of dragon in deepest Peru?' guessed Draco, with a grin. 

'No! It isn't that! But, have they?' 

'No, Hermione, I was teasing.' 

She rolled her eyes. 'Don't you want to know my news?' 

'Of course I do, but you said to guess!' 

'Well,' she sighed, 'I suppose I walked into that one. But I really do have something to tell you! We're allowed to bring Durmstrang or Beauxbatons students as our guests to the Yule Ball!' 

'Oh?' said Draco, cautiously. 

'Yes! And I thought you might like to come with me, you know, since you said that you wouldn't be able to go otherwise, and it isn't as if I have a boy to go with in the castle or anything.' 

'Oh, Hermione, you would do that?' 

'Of course! I want you to see the castle, Draco!' She faltered. 'You do want to come to the Ball, don't you?' 

'Yes, very much!' Draco said, his eyes shining. 

He had heard very little over the past few days that didn't relate to the Yule Ball. All of the older Durmstrang students were invited anyway, and they did very little but talk about it. The girls, usually so dignified and aloof, were suddenly travelling around the ship in giggling, whispering knots, which made getting around rather uncomfortable. The boys were less visibly excited, but still they could discuss little except for which girls they would dance with, what they would wear, what there might be to eat and drink... Draco, listening whenever he could, had felt such pangs of envy when he heard that they were already decorating the castle for Christmas that he'd felt like crying. 

But now he was invited! Now he was going to the Yule Ball too! 

'Well, good,' said Hermione, a little amused at his rapturous expression. 'It's formal dress, I'm sure you know.' 

'I didn't bring any dress robes with me,' said Draco, with a frown. 

'Well, I'm sure we can sort that out somehow,' Hermione said breezily. 

But Draco was already thinking of the other obstacles which he would need to overcome. 

'I don't think the Dieners are supposed to go to the Ball,' he said. 'Karkaroff might just send me straight back here when he sees me...' 

'Dumbledore would never let him!' Hermione said. 

'And I'll have to help Viktor prepare; I don't know if there'll be time to get ready myself...' 

'We'll work something out! Draco, stop making more problems for yourself!' 

'I'm not! It's just that I'm worried that something will go wrong.' 

'It won't,' said Hermione, firmly. 'Dumbledore will be there. He wouldn't let Karkaroff send you away once you're there. All it needs is a bit of forward planning. I promise we can make this work.' 

* * * 

_Dear Mother,_ wrote Draco, 

_I was very happy to receive your last package. The cake was delicious. I shared it with a friend of mine, a Hogwarts student named Hermione, who I am taking to the Yule Ball._

_Do you think you could send me my dress robes so that I can make sure they still fit in time for the Ball?_

_All my love,_

_Draco._

That didn't give too much away, Draco thought, as he folded up the letter and sent it with the owl. It wouldn't do to seem too excited. The Malfoys were sophisticated. At his age his father had probably already taken dozens of girls to dozens of balls. Draco himself had been to plenty when he was a little boy, but Durmstrang wasn't that sort of place, and so he hadn't been to a formal dance since he was ten, and too young to go with a girl. This was going to be a completely new challenge. 

_My darling Draco,_

_How could you think that I would send you your old dress robes? You have surely outgrown them by now. The Hogwarts Yule Ball is a fabulous occasion of enormous reputation and you must certainly have new dress robes. I have enclosed a tape-measure which has been enchanted to take your measurements for a new set - please send it back by return._

_You didn't tell me that you were seeing a girl! Is she from a good family? Is she pretty? Do you get on well? You must tell me everything!_

_I do wish that you would let us come and visit you while you are so close, especially since I assume that, with all the excitement, you won't be coming home for Christmas? I know you must be enjoying staying at Hogwarts and I do so want to come and share it with you. I do miss you, you know._

_Another cake follows shortly. Also, I have knitted you a hat, which is enclosed. I do hope you'll wear it._   _I don't want you to catch a chill - it has been rather cold lately._   _Make certain_   _you eat properly and get enough sleep - sleep is very important for growing boys._

_Your father sends his love._   _He is sorry that he hasn't written to you himself lately, but he really is tremendously busy. He is very interested to hear what you have been doing. Of course I won't tell him about your young lady unless you want me to._

_Take care, darling!_

_All my love,_

_Mother_

_xxx_

_Dear Mother,_

_Here is your tape-measure back. Thank you for arranging for me to have new dress robes!_

_I am not 'seeing' Hermione. We are just good friends. We do our homework together._   _And yes, she is very pretty._

_Thank you for the cake! It was delicious as always._

_I know you would like to come and visit me here, but honestly I am very busy what with one thing and another and I would like you to come later in the year when I have more free time to spend with you._

_Lots of love,_

_Draco._

_* * *_

Hermione was always flushed with excitement when she arrived in Draco's room these days - apparently there was just as much fuss about the Yule Ball at the castle as there was on the ship. Today she came in, flung her books on the bed and sat on Draco's desk. 

'We've been learning to dance!' she announced. 'We didn't have any classes at all today, just dancing lessons.' 

'And how did they go?' he asked, leaning forward eagerly. 

'Well, I...' she frowned. 'Not so well, actually. I think I got the basics, but then I had to lead because there weren't enough boys, and then I got all confused. And Professor McGonagall isn't sure there'll be time for us to have more lessons before the Ball. I hope I can figure it out by then.' 

Draco frowned too, considering her. 

'Are you having dance lessons too?' Hermione asked. 

He shook his head. 

'Oh, gosh, then it must be even scarier for you! Do you think you'll be able to learn in time?' 

Draco stared at her. 'Learn to dance? Me?' 

'Well, I just thought that you might like to... with me...' 

He laughed. 'Hermione, I've been dancing since I could walk. There won't be a problem with that part. In fact, I could give you some pointers, if you like.' 

'Oh, could you? That would be lovely! I do so want to dance well, in front of all those people.' 

She beamed at him, and he grinned back. 

'We could give it a try now, if you like,' he said. 

'Alright!' she said, standing up and taking his hand. 'Lead on, Mister Malfoy...' 

He put his right hand on her waist, and she put her left hand on his shoulder. Their free hands clasped together. 

'It's very easy, really,' he said. 'It's just: one, two, three; one, two, three. Let's try it.' 

And they began to move, awkwardly at first. They kicked over Draco's chair, and bumped into the bed before they got into a rhythm. 

'Don't try to lead,' said Draco. 'And don't keep looking at my feet! I know how to lead, just trust me. It works, I promise.' 

Hermione giggled, and lifted her head to watch Draco's eyes instead of his feet. He hadn't been boasting - he was a good dancer, and she felt the steps begin to come more easily as he led her across the small floor space that they had. It was easier than she had thought to move in harmony with Draco, and she began to really enjoy the feeling of dancing, just dancing. 

'What about Viktor?' Draco asked, abruptly. 

Hermione stopped. 

'He asked me to the ball with him, the other day,' she said. 'And I told him that I was already going with somebody.' 

'And... he was alright about it?' 

'Well... not exactly. He said I'd been leading him on, and I tried to explain about it, without letting him know who it was I was taking... I tried to tell him how I was taking somebody who wouldn't have the chance to go otherwise, and it didn't mean that I didn't like him, but he was still angry...' 

'Do you still like him?' Draco asked. 

'Well... yes... but it's all so mixed up! I think Viktor's lovely, really I do. I enjoy spending time with him, he's very attentive, and he can be quite romantic sometimes. But... I'm not saying that he isn't intelligent, but he's so quiet! He doesn't like to discuss things the way I do, he isn't really interested in theories and things like that. I can't talk to him like... like I can to you.' 

An awkward silence fell over them. 

'Shall I show you that step again?' Draco asked, after several long seconds had passed. 

'Yes, please!' said Hermione, and they got up and carried on. 

* * * 

_Dear Draco,_

_Are you sure you aren't seeing this Hermione? You will tell me if there are any developments, won't you?I don't want to seem interfering, but I care about you and I'm interested to know what your friends are like. Even if there is no prospect of romance with Hermione, which I find hard to credit considering your looks and manners, do tell me more about her!_

_I enclose your new robes - if you don't like them you must say and I'll get you some other ones, but I think these will suit you very well._   _Try them on right away before you forget - you wouldn't want to discover half an hour before the Ball that they aren't right._

_Are you sure I can't drop in on you for just an hour or two?_   _I'm sure you're very busy indeed, but I wouldn't take up much of your time. I'd just like to see you if it's at all possible._   _Of course, if you'd rather not, that's fine too._   _I'm happy that you're being so independent._

_All my love,_

_Mother_

_xxx_

Draco tried the robes on to show Hermione when she came to visit, two days before Christmas. They were pale blue, and went perfectly with his ivory skin and blond hair. Out of the drab uniform of Durmstrang and in something more suited to his temperament, he suddenly felt more confident, and carried himself taller. 

'You look very dashing!' said Hermione. 'I hardly recognise you!' 

He bowed to her, and grinned, and she giggled. 

'I don't know if I'll be able to get away again before the Ball,' she said. 'Are we clear on the plan of action?' 

He nodded. 'I help Viktor get ready, wait until they're all gone, and then get ready myself.' 

'It means we'll probably miss the first dance,' Hermione said. 'But it can't be helped.' 

'Then I'll come down from the ship secretly, meet you in the grounds, and we'll arrive at the Ball together.' 

'We'll sneak in while everyone's dancing and just blend in.' 

'By the time anyone notices I'm there it will be too late to send me away.' 

'And we'll have a wonderful, magical evening!' Hermione beamed. 

Draco grinned back. He could hardly wait. 


End file.
